


the nearness of you

by k0skareeves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark Are Not Related, Love Confessions, Romance, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0skareeves/pseuds/k0skareeves
Summary: A hum is all he gets for an answer.He steps closer, his hand on the back of her neck, her skin like fire under his fingers. She lets him, sags into his chest, forehead fitting just right under his lips and he presses a kiss there, arms holding her close, tasting her sweat as he speaks. "Should've called me.""You wouldn't have come."
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 138





	the nearness of you

**Author's Note:**

> Isolation has me reading more books than usual (some amazing, some very questionable), listening to a lot of Norah Jones and staying up until four am writing for jonsa so here it is, hopefully you'll enjoy it.
> 
> To Fatima, who's kind, patient and always listens. Love you.
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay during these hard times 💜

First time it happens she's quiet.

Hasn't been taking his calls. Two days of radio silence and he hates to admit it but he's angry. No, not angry, _worried,_ at the quiet, at her. Kills him to realize it, but it's true. He misses her. Fuck, he misses her _a lot._

Hasn't been at work either, and he knows this cause he _checks._ Actually goes to the diner and asks the nice brunette, the one who he knows is her friend, and she tells him with a knowing smile that she hasn't been in the last two days. _Called in sick yesterday morning, that's all I know,_ and he breathes out in frustration, orders a piece of the cherry pie to go, eats it in the dark of his kitchen at the early hours of the night.

Drives to her house in the morning, sky still half dark, because fuck if she'll avoid him for another day. Fuck if she'll get under his skin like that just to disappear right after, leaving his blood cold from the absence of her. No, he'll tell her how it is and she'll be damned if she won't hear him. Can't be hiding in her house forever, can't keep being this reckless and missing work over their silly argument.

Knocks on the wooden door three times, loud enough to wake the birds on the trees, and waits until it opens.

Is not ready for the sight.

First thing he notices is her lips, usually plum and pink, now dry and pale. She's white all over, except for dark circles under the blue of her eyes, fiery locks braided harshly out of the way, and she looks ready to pass out. Makes a low whimper when she sees him, tries to close the door but he holds it open with his palm, puts no effort to it, she's barely holding herself to her feet, can't possibly stop him from coming in.

"Don't you dare," says, harsher than he means to.

"What is it, Jon?"

Voice so small it hurts his heart. Pushes inside and she lets him, wraps her arms around herself, looking small under her dark winter coat, the one he’s seen her wear through the years.

"I've been calling."

"I don't even know where my phone is," and he believes her cause she looks too damn fragile. He lifts a hand to push a stubborn strand of red hair away and feels her shiver, gives her a questioning look.

"I'm cold."

He moves his fingers up, palm gently resting against her forehead and she closes her eyes. _Burning._ "That's cause you have a fever, honey."

A hum is all he gets for an answer. 

He steps closer, his hand on the back of her neck, her skin like fire under his fingers. She lets him, sags into his chest, forehead fitting just right under his lips and he presses a kiss there, arms holding her close, tasting her sweat as he speaks. "Should've called me."

"You wouldn't have come."

Fuck if he wouldn't. There’s nothing he wouldn't do for her, not a damn thing. Has tried telling her, in that way of his. Failed, or she wouldn't be hesitant towards him, wouldn't have kept her sickness to herself. Needs to be better, he knows, at telling her how he _feels,_ but it ain't easy, not with him.

"Jon?"

"Hm?"

"I'm tired."

There's the hurt again, deep within his chest. Her voice but a whisper against him, tugs at something inside him he thought dead a long time ago. Is quick, how he lifts her in his arms, knowing just how bad she really feels by her lack of protest, carries her to the bedroom, places her body carefully on the unmade bed, content at her small sigh.

Notices the packaging one her nightstand. "Have you taken any today?" She hums again, shakes her head and winces at the gesture, and he goes to her kitchen, opens the cabinets in search of a glass, brings her water, helps her sit up so she can swallow down the Tylenol, makes sure she drinks it all, worried about her dried up lips. Should let her rest now, knows it, can wait to settle their argument on another day. Her eyes are closed when her runs his fingers through her hair, gently, half torn about leaving her like this, fully aware that he's trespassing in so many ways, that she would be mad had she not been this sick, can't bring himself to care about it when he drops his lips against her forehead once more.

Turns to leave when small fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't leave," she says, half asleep, voice so quiet he steps closer to make sure he's heard her right.

"Need you."

A million reasons why this would be a bad idea, the main one being she's delusional from the fever, will wake up later as mad as a lion, nay, a wolf, ready to jump on him for his actions, for daring to come here, to care for her, but she asked. Small hand still gripping tight at his wrist and damn if he'll leave, damn if he'll deny her. Couldn't even if he wanted to.

Kicks off his boots and climbs next to her, sitting upright, bringing her to rest her head at his chest, arms around her, hand softly caressing her hair, stays like this until he falls asleep, her body humming softly next to his, the anger long forgotten.

* * *

Second time it happens she's desperate.

Her lips on him. All he can think about is her lips on him, the feel of her skin, the grind of her heat against crotch. His leather couch is old and uncomfortable but that's where she takes him, because yes, she's the one taking control, the one in charge, the one to give the first kiss, the one to straddle his lap, the one pulling on his hair. He's hard for her, ready, and were she anyone else he would've taken her to bed already, fucked her into the mattress, on her hands and knees, hard and fast like he usually does but this is different. This is not just anyone, this is her. This is _Sansa._ And she's everything he never thought he'd want even if he'd spent half his life wanting someone just like her. _Fuck._ Can’t pretend anymore, can’t pretend he’s not enchanted by the way she kisses him, can’t pretend he hasn’t dreamt of her sweet mouth on him for half his lifetime, can’t pretend this isn’t just exactly why he kept his distance through the years. He’s tired, tired of pretending, so he lets his hands roam freely, discovering the shapes of her body while she kisses him senseless.

The straps on her dress are too thin, too easy to pull down, so he does just that, slowly, following the rhythm of her kisses on him, and soon his hand is tugging down on green cotton to uncover a breast. Her flesh is hot, soft as he palms her, except for the hard nipple and he pinches it, gently, teases the most lovely moan out of her and _fuck,_ he wants her. Pinches harder, earns another moan, does the same to the other breast, moving slow, taking his time, letting her decide if this is really what _she_ wants, because he’s never been more certain in his life.

She keeps on grinding and kissing and moaning as he lowers his hands to her thighs, lifting up her dress, dropping his gaze for a moment as his fingers grasp over something silky and small.

Pink little bow stuck to the top of her lacy blue panties.

Hands on her creamy white thighs, her lips flushed from his kisses, her chin and neck read from his beard, dress low, breasts out, nipples hard, begging to be sucked on, and that pink bow on her panties.

She’s perfect.

Tonight she’s his.

Looks up at her eyes, her pretty blue eyes, eyes he could drown on, eyes he will drown on, if she lets him, if she wants him, if she ne-

“Jon?”

“Hm?”

Sucks in a breath, knows it even before she says it, panting.

“Need you.”

Takes her to bed, then, her breathy words stuck on his mind. Gives it to her, then, gives _in_ to her, but not before he satiates himself, not before he plants a kiss on that pink bow, not before lowering her panties to the ground, half remembering to go slow, too eager to know the taste of her, too desperate to feel her stretch around his fingers as his tongue sucks on that pretty pink nub, too proud of the sounds he coaches out of her until she’s trembling in his arms. Then he takes her, hands on each side of her head, eyes locked with hers as he fucks her cunt in a slow, steady pace, so unlike him, yet fitting to them.

After, falls asleep, her head on his chest, body humming next to him.

* * *

Third time it happens she’s sad.

Seeing red a moment ago. More anger than he’d ever felt, something took over, deep, instinctively, animal, and he only saw red.

Knows the worst could’ve happened.

Hands still shaking now, under the faint light of his kitchen, the yellow making it harder to distinguish his bruised knuckles from the blood. Some of it is his, most of it is not. She’s shaking too, standing next to him, a wash cloth in hand, grey shirt she sleeps on stained red. His shirt, his blood, his girl. Seems fitting, he thinks, almost laughs at it, a dark kind of laughter, would tell her but knows she’s not amused, knows damn well and yet can’t seem to find it in him to be sorry.

Face stings when she pressed the washcloth drenched in alcohol against his skin and he grunts. “Good,” she says, not an inch of sweetness in her voice, only darkness and worry and he _feels it,_ deep within his chest, that familiar hurt, the one that comes when she’s the one hurting and maybe he does feel sorry, just a tiny bit, not about what he did but because she’s upset.

Because he made her that way.

The sting again, close to his eye, and his hand shoots up to stop her but she slaps it away, lips pressed on a harsh line, body still shaking even with the heat of him.

Knows she’s in a state, tries to reason with her. “The bastard deserv-”

“Don’t you dare,” harsh tone that leaves him helpless. Keeps quiet then, while she works, tries not to grunt when she exchanges the washcloth for the needle and thread, her hands only ever gentle on him, even with her anger. It’s late and he knows she’s tired, knows she’s scared, knows she’s worrying and he hates to be doing this to her but by now it’s almost second nature. Usually tries to contain his anger, and mostly manages, but tonight there was no holding back, there was only red and blood and pain, and knows that weren’t for her voice he might’ve never stopped.

The worst could've happened.

Pushes the thought away, won’t think about it now.

She finishes, drops the needle to the metal bow on the table, lets out a shaky sigh, and he finally dares to look up at her, at her tear stained face, at her sad blue eyes, and fuck if he doesn’t regret everything right now. Should’ve never laid his hands on the man, the bastard, should’ve let the sheriff handle him, should’ve thought this through before making her hurt like this, and he’s so sorry, so fucking sorry, doesn’t even know how to begin saying it but hell if he won’t try.

“Sansa-”

“No, Jon. Just don’t, okay?

Shuts his mouth and waits. Watches her close her eyes, take a breath, run her fingers through her hair, her red stained fingers from his blood.

_Shit._

“You could’ve gotten killed today.”

It’s true, he knows it. Hates that she knows it but she’s not stupid, not in the slightlest, is in fact the smartest woman he’s ever met. “I know.”

Slaps him in the arm, angry. “Like hell you do. How does that leave me, huh? You dead in a ditch and me all alone? You can’t do that, Jon!” Slaps again, a little bit harder, not nearly hard enough to even begin hurting him. Hands only ever gentle on him, carefull, even with anger. “You can’t just go and fucking do that, not like this, not to me. I need you.”

She’s crying again, lips trembling, hands shaking, and all he wants is to hold her, tell her it will be okay, promise her he won’t ever leave her, not until she asks him to, and he hopes she never does.

“I need you, Jon. I love you. Let me love you, okay? Stop being so damn stupid and let me love you.”

On his feet now, pushes her up against the table, doesn’t mind the blood, the bruises, doesn’t mind anything that isn’t her, that isn’t _them._ Wipes away her tears with his blood stained fingers, kisses her lips with a gentless he didn’t know he possessed, holds her while she half cries, half kisses him back, her palms tugging at his ruined shirt, her red locks softs against his bruised knuckles.

“Love me back,” whispers on his lips, her mouth pressed to his while she speaks, tears less violent but still falling, body still trembling on his embrace. “Let me love you and love me back.”

And he does.

Of course he does.

Has been loving her since he was sixteen and they were silly children, playing with the dogs in the woods.

Has been loving her since before he even knew what love was.

Just took him a while to figure it out, that’s all.

“I do.” Presses a soft kiss to her cheek when he says it. “I love you.” The other cheek. “You know I do.” Her lips, and doesn’t stop kissing her, won’t ever stop, kissing her, fucking her, loving her, not until she asks him to.

And he hopes she never does.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think since I'm not all that sure of this myself.
> 
> English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes, I'm trying to improve myself every day 💜
> 
> Thank you for reading, bye 😘😘


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